Greenland by the Polar Sea/Chapter 10

NOT without sadness do we take leave of this little valley where both men and dogs have had four glorious rest days. We all have a feeling that in front of us lies a fight for life which will require all our strength.

We cannot take with us much meat of the eleven oxen killed in this place. We have carried down to the sledges twenty-four shoulders and legs, which for human consumption would go rather a long way, but as dog food it is too lean to last out well. We cannot take more than this quantity, for, as the load consists of other things as well, it would be quite impossible for us to pull heavier sledges out of the many water-filled holes which we shall pass. Furthermore, the temperature in the valley was so high that it was impossible for us to keep the meat fresh. Enormous swarms of bluebottles literally shot up from the soil and laid their eggs everywhere on the meat. A skinned piece which is put aside will in a few seconds be entirely covered with flies. So quickly do the eggs develop that the fat and disgusting maggots pour out of the eyeholes of the killed animals. Also the solid meat is destroyed in the same way; but fortunately it is not a great quantity which is being wasted, as from the very outset we overfed our dogs, and we also have had as many meals as we could possibly get down.

All our energy is now bent towards the crossing of Sherard Osborne Fjord, however heavy and difficult the going may prove. For now we want to get home. The day before yes​terday I sent Harrigan and Ajako to Cape May to reconnoitre: their observations revealed the fact that the road from our camp to the cape itself will be difficult; on the other hand. it seems that the fjord itself, despite occasional clefts, will not be quite impossible. Therefore, let us spit on our hands!

At five o'clock in the afternoon of the 15th of July we are ready to start. Standing there on the ice ready to throw ourselves out into the water, Summer Valley appears more pretty than ever. The afternoon sun sheds its colours over the green-speckled slopes, and the inland-ice behind the country hangs over the friendly babbling river in beautiful pink shades. Even the great ice-covered ocean has put on gay garments, phantastic mirages breaking the dead monotony of the horizon by erecting aerial castles above the plane of the desert. Beaumont Island with its sharp, dark cliffs has risen above the ice and hovers high up in the air swathed in violet hues.

But we have no time for poetic moods; before us lies the grey, everyday prose in the many water-filled hollows we have to cross. For the first four hours we work our way out through the great river delta, where the water often reaches to our waists. In most places the dogs cannot reach the bottom, so we ourselves must undertake the work of getting the sledges across the deep lakes. Especially when the sledge-snouts get stuck below the hollowed ice-hummocks we find work hard, for then we have to lie down with our arms in the water, wrenching the sledges backwards out of the obstacle.

To save our collections, the photographic material, diaries, and other important matters, from a soaking, we build another storey to the sledges, erecting two staffs on the foremost transoms and building a bridge of skis between these and the uprights; this is a very helpful invention.

Near Cape May the ice improves greatly, and to our great surprise we find on the first half of Sherard Osborne Fjord the best ice we have as yet encountered up here. The melted water has apparently oozed through, so the basins are for the most part dry or at any rate covered merely by very shallow water. The dogs trot along in good fettle with one man on the sledge, ​an encouraging sight which we have not witnessed since the 7th of May; they all wear kamiks and do not suffer much from the sharp points of the ice. At six o'clock we pitch our tent in the middle of the fjord off Reef Island, which is one of the Beaumont Isles. In spite of the occasionally difficult condition of the ground, we have already rather heavy loads for the return journey. We have paraffin, pemmican, biscuits, coffee, tea, sugar, oats, our clothes, and each eight ox-shoulders and legs, besides tallow and melted marrow. We really do not need a great addition of seal meat for each sledge. But so far we have, strangely enough, not seen any seals at all.

If only we can get two whole seals per sledge—altogether six—in addition to what we shall require before we ascend the inland-ice, we shall easily reach the land by Cape Agassiz, situated only 400 kilometres from St. George Fjord.

It is the fourth time on this journey that I come to Sherard Osborne Fjord. Without comparison it is the most beautiful of all the fjords up here, the wildest horizon outward, most air inward, with peculiar geological formations. The Devonian section out towards the mouth is light brown and warm in tinge, with numerous tongues of glacier pushing down between the high out-jutting capes; the Silurian further in, bluish, leaden-grey, strongly changing in colours in the varying light; and inmost the tender, often pink algonkium, the eozoic section with its fine pinks of dawn.

In the background, through a mighty wide gateway by Cape Buttress, is the inland-ice, which from this point shows against the horizon as a whitish sun-glittering fog.

In the beautiful, quiet afternoon as I am writing this, previous to the start for Dragon Point, the enormous stillness of the fjord is broken by occasional rolling thunder from the many small local glaciers which seem unusually lively here on the north-east side of the fjord. Our camp is in the middle of the fjord. At seven o'clock in the afternoon we break up, setting our course for Dragon Point.

Fortunately we have the same easy going as yesterday. The ​many great water-basins have poured out their contents through the melting-pores of the ice, and in most places they are now quite empty. The porous ice with its sharp needles is painful for the feet, but the dogs constantly wear their shoes, which prevent their paws from being cut. In some places we meet lakes which are from 2 to 3 kilometres broad. As a rule the water here only reaches up to the ankle, but it is very cold and covered with a layer of thin ice which breaks with a jingle as soon as we tread on it. This sharp new ice troubles the dogs when it breaks between their paws, for the fragments have edges like knives, having the hard consistency of fresh water in contradistinction to the softer toughness of the salt water. To get around the worst and biggest of these lakes we drive in a zigzag course, and only at two o'clock do we reach Dragon Point after having made a distance of 13 kilometres.

To our surprise we meet here a belt of open water between land and the ocean-ice. The excessive quantity of melted water of the last few days has oozed down from land and softened the ice; the pressure of the tidal waters underneath has added its work to hasten the melting, and these forces together have produced a broad belt of open water between land and the ocean-ice. We find a spot with a breadth of only 40 kilometres and ferry across with the sledges which, with the aid of bladders, we have made capable of floating.

To our indescribable disappointment, we have not yet seen one single seal; the reason must surely be that the ice, because of the hasty melting of the snow, has become so rough and prickly that the seals do not care to crawl up on it. Nevertheless, we are hoping that a systematic hunt may give some result, as in the water-belt between land and ice we have seen several.

After a hurried meal Harrigan and I climb the mountains in order to find, from the top of the high Dragon Mountain, a point of access to the inland-ice. Going is bad and we frequently cut our feet, which are already sore from walking across the ice, on the many little sharp stones which cover the mountain slopes. These stones alternate with heavy, soft clay, now in such a state because of the thaw that we frequently sink down ​and stick fast. Finally we have to cross several rivers which give us difficulty.

We decide to climb the mountain due south by south-west of Dragon Point and hunt hares on our way. There are not a few, but they are incredibly shy. We succeed in bagging eight, which we deposit by the foot of the mountain.

We see a seal on the ice near a whirlpool outside a large river which appears to intersect entirely the land of Dragon Point. The ice where the seal lies is, however, so strongly thawed up because of the fresh water, that it proves impossible for us to approach to within shooting distance. That is the only seal we have seen so far.

It is slow work to climb the mountain, as our feet are burning with walking on the small sharp stones which torture our foot-soles. Not until five o'clock in the afternoon do we reach the top of a great firn^[1] with deep and fatiguing snow. We are now well over 1,000 kilometres above sea-level. But our efforts are rewarded, for we have a glorious view of Sherard Osborne Fjord, St. George Fjord, and the country in all directions. But our eyes do not appreciate the grand Arctic panorama glistening in fresh light colours from glaciers and firn-covered land; they search for one thing only: the many tongues of the inland-ice down towards land which shall make it possible for us to ascend and find a way homeward; and simultaneously we give a loud shout with joy:

We have found the place!

Approximately 40 kilometres into the fjord the inland-ice lets down a white fold across an even gradient of mountains at a distance of 5 or 6 kilometres from the fjord-ice. No crevasses are apparent, and across the peaks behind shines the broad even

back of the main glacier. Here the attempt must be made. Late in the night of the 19th we return to the tent after an activity of nearly two nights and days. Hendrik and Koch then climb the Dragon Mountain to find an observation station with a view of all the new land.

July 19th.—In the afternoon of the 19th, Ajako and Bosun return after three days of seal-hunting, which has brought no result. They have been right across the fjord and followed the coast right down to Cape Bryan, where they were stopped by a broad open ocean trending far seaward due north, and then due west in the direction of Black Horn Cliffs. No seals were to be seen here, probably because they kept further seaward. But they have seen many along land in the broad water-belt. Here they had shot six, the very number I had mentioned as a safeguard for the homeward journey; but every one had dived to the bottom like a stone.

The habits of the seals of this fjord—or perhaps on the coasts of North Greenland generally—are so different from what is known in other places in Greenland, that we were landed in a very serious position. Everywhere the seals at this warm summer-time will crawl up on the ice, and a sure aim gives an easy catch; in that way we got our seals by the Fleshpot and Dragon Point. But those which must now be shot in the water will sink at once because they are so thin. It is possible that the water-filled surface which constitutes rough and slippery ice does not tempt them to come up, wherefore they must fall back on the open water either at sea or along land or ice. But under similar ice conditions and at the same time of the year in Independence Fjord in 1912, and by the previously described sealing-grounds by Marshall Bay and Renslaer Harbour, we saw the seals crawling up. A water pantomime like the one here being performed along the land, none of us have previously witnessed. From our camp we have shot altogether three, but they also went to the bottom without a movement, and in spite of all efforts it proved impossible to fish them out of the turbid water. It was therefore essential that we should now take stock of the provisions which we have deposited, and also of those which we have acquired during recent hunts; we shall scarcely be able to get more, but we ought to have sufficient, even though it be the smallest possible sufficiency.

​I reckon twelve days' journey from the edge of the inland-ice to the land by Cape Agassiz near the southern corner of Humboldt's Glacier. The distance will be 400 kilometres; with the possibility of four weather-bound days, that will be altogether sixteen days' travelling. To meet all emergencies we ought to take provisions for twenty days.

The stock-taking of the stores which we cachèd on this headland in May gives the following result: Rolled Avena oats for twenty days, with one cooking a day; biscuits, little rye-flour biscuits of the size of the well-known Marie biscuits, five per day for twenty days; about 50 pounds of pemmican, divided into small rations for seven men for nine days; also coffee and tea for twenty or twenty-five days. We must procure meat provisions for about ten days. If, as for the moment seems likely, this is to consist entirely of hares, we reckon three hares per day for seven men, which again means that thirty hares must be found. These represent a very undurable and bony article, so we must cut them in two and bring only the hind part.

But as long as we remain on the ocean-ice, as long as the many seals splash in the melted water right in front of our eyes, we will cling to the hope that after all we may succeed in catching a few. Should even the land-hunt fail, we have only our dogs to fall back on; this is unfortunately neither aesthetic nor tempting, but circumstances may arise when the fight for existence simplifies the lines on which dispositions have to be made, and the situation thus created alters one's feelings to a certain degree.

For the dogs we have twenty-four pieces of musk-ox meat, chiefly legs and shoulders, also skin and blubber of two seals. This we hope will suffice for twelve travelling days, provided we have not to make inroads on it in St. George Fjord. Thus there is yet a possibility that most of the dogs with some luck will come safe to the land south of Humboldt's Glacier. When we arrive there we shall be within Etah—the hunting-grounds of the Eskimos—and can surely then manage the last 250 kilometres till we meet men.

​Already it is now quite clear to us that the homeward journey will require the last of our strength; but we have no choice, we must reach home and get away from these regions where there is not game enough to make existence possible for any length of time.

Ajako and Bosun, immediately after their return from their unsuccessful seal-hunting, went out to hunt hares; after an absence of twelve hours they returned with five hares, having also seen a largish flock of ermine, of which they brought one. In order to save our ox-meat the dogs were fed on hares-a meal which tastes well enough, but did not seem to satisfy them. In the course of the day Koch and Hendrik returned from Dragon Mountain. Koch was full of enthusiasm over the beautiful view he had had, and over the excellent results his climb in the mountains had yielded.

Hunger and death stalked us from all sides, and we decided to break up quickly. As it pays best to have the hunters distributed as well as possible, the journey was arranged so that the expedition temporarily was divided into two parties. Wulff, Koch, Hendrik, and Bosun were to follow the great river which penetrates the country, and go so far in that they would come out on the height of the point from which we were to cross over to Daniel Bruun Glacier on Warning Land. Harrigan, Ajako, and I were to drive the sledges to our meeting-place.

During camp-breaking we were all in high spirits. We did not offer much thought to the fact that now we unavoidably had to tighten our belts; it was far more important to us that we had at last found a way homeward, and that our stay up here was completed with good results. Before we parted we had a merry shooting competition with a revolver, which must be left behind, as we had to reduce weight so as not to drag on unnecessary burdens. During this competition Hendrik represented, as usual, good spirits and transmitted, with all his amusing fooleries, his happy mood to us. Immediately before we each went our way, something happened which at the moment seemed of no consequence, but which later was destined to ​occupy my thoughts much, even though I could not regret the decision I had made.

Just before we broke camp, Hendrik came up to me and asked to be excused from going inland; he could not explain why, but he would rather not, and therefore asked my permission to join our party and cross the ice. I explained that there were practical reasons for the distribution, as it was of importance that as many as possible should go land-hunting; furthermore, the walk on land would be much more comfortable than driving across the ice, as the latter would go chiefly through water-basins. He found an excuse by saying that his boots were bad, and that it would hurt his feet to walk across the stony stretches. I gave him at once a pair of my own kamiks to pull on top of his own, so that the soles of his feet should not suffer.

At that moment Harrigan, who had heard our conversation, came up to say that if Hendrik would rather not go across the land, he could take Harrigan's sledge, so that the latter could go hare-hunting with Bosun. But Hendrik had now come to a new decision and declared that as I had decided he ought to go with the land party, he had better do so and thus matters were settled. The only thing in this little incident which for a moment surprised me was that Hendrik, who always in the best of spirits accepted the task allotted to him, on this occasion hesitated to carry out his orders; but as during the past few days, with his Remington rifle of the Royal Greenland Commercial type, he had shown himself to be one of our safest shots when it was a matter of bagging the shy, fleeing hares, I was nevertheless satisfied that my decision should stand, little suspecting the uncanny catastrophe which was destined to be a consequence of this arrangement.

July 20th-24th.—At last on the 28th of July we set off on a beautiful evening to attempt an ascent in the place we had noted from the top of Dragon Mountain. Our stay by Dragon ​Point had in every way disappointed our hopes; but in spite of the not very generous store of provisions we could not but feel elated, for the sun shone above us and dried our clothes whilst we slept.

Waving our hands to our comrades, and with encouraging shouts to the dogs, we drove out in the middle of the fjord, where going seemed to be better. But we soon found that conditions were more changeable than ever. The ice consisted of old Sikûssaq, and an unusually bad one at that. The melted holes were up to 3 metres deep, and in some places they were so close to each other that the small hills of ice which separated them were so narrow and sharp that it was almost impossible to run the sledges across without toppling them over. Occasionally we met lanes right through the ice, and these proved a great obstacle to us because the dogs flatly refused to swim out into them. With all our strength we had to keep the sledges upright, so that they should not fall down in the seas; and gradually we got very tired of holding them, for they increased in weight as the load became waterlogged. Although we helped each other across all difficult passages, the sledges often got the upper hand on the slippery ice, where we slithered about in our water-filled, soggy boots, and when they did overturn there was nothing to do but jump out into the water as quickly as possible.

Everything was soaked, even our holiest of holies—the photographic films, taken on the whole of our journey, Wulff's collection of plants, the oats, the cameras with their valuable films, and everything else bore the marks of that damned drive.

After twelve hours' bathing we stopped at nine o'clock in the morning, hoarse with shouting at each other and the dogs. Our slight advance was 20 kilometres into St. George Fjord.

By five o'clock in the afternoon the baggage was once more so fairly dry that we could continue. The state of our own clothes was of less consequence, for we would be driving into the water again in any case.

Just as we were ready to start, a seal popped up in the lane right under our noses, and at the same instant it got a bullet ​through its brain; but in spite of all our speed it sank like a stone before we had time to touch it.

It blew from north-west and a fog set in; in an instant the summer was as if blown out of the fjord, and as the sun disappeared we felt so cold in our wet clothes that our teeth started chattering. Off we went through ice and water, but in the midst of our hurry we must stop frequently to renew the kamiks of the dogs, which were being worn out on the rough ice. Without their shoes the dogs would have big wounds on the pads of their feet within a few minutes, and thus be of no use for the remainder of the journey; so we tied on their kamiks with hands swollen and stiff from the cold water. As soon as possible we continued inward, and to our joy we found that going was better than yesterday. The wind rushed round in the fjord in a funny way. It entered as a south-easter on the south side of the fjord and left it as a north-wester along the northern shore. We were in the middle of the ring, and we felt exactly as if we were on a merry-go-round.

We followed the shore-ice inward and were stopped by a shout from land. Through the fog we discerned Bosun sitting on a big stone just inside the belt of the tidal waters, wildly gesticulating as is the custom of the Eskimo when he has an important communication to deliver. As soon as we approached we understood that he had really important news. He had just shot a seal, which lay plainly visible in low water. He also told that on the way he had shot seven hares. This put new life into all of us. A long stake was hurriedly formed from the tent poles, and at the end of this the point of a harpoon was fixed, to be run into the seal so that we could haul it up by the aid of the line fixed to the harpoon. It was the first time that a killed seal had sunk in a spot where it was visible, and we already sensed the taste of its delicious meat in our mouths and the warmth of its blubber in our bodies. A ferry was made, but at the very moment the improvised harpoon entered the water, the seal, as if seized by an invisible hand, rolled out and disappeared in the deep.

We did not swear on this occasion, our disappointment was ​too great; strangely silent we continued inward to meet our comrades.

Bosun told us that Hendrik had remained behind, as he had chosen to take a little snooze and then continue the hare-hunting.

July 22nd.—At two o'clock in the morning we met Wulff and Koch, rather weary after their long journey. But as soon as they had had boiled hares and coffee their weariness was as if blown away, and we could once more discuss the position. The country had been trackless and desolate, and though a fair number of hares had been observed, they were so shy that one could not hope for hunting which would make a rest here possible.

We had yet eighteen dogs, and if these were to live on hares they would require at least ten per day; even that would be a somewhat mean meal, as at this time of the year there is little meat on their bony carcases. We saw clearly that it would be impossible to get so big a bag that it would suffice for the dogs and for ourselves, and in addition yield the thirty hares which, according to our ideas, would be required as a supplement to the provisions for the homeward journey. Thus there was nothing for it but to continue inward, as every hour of delay meant a further decrease in our stores.

None of us gave a thought to Hendrik's absence at this time; under the changeable conditions of our existence, we were so accustomed to hunt each in his own direction, and to remain absent for indefinite periods as often as we thought fit, that there was no cause for anxiety. For safety's sake, two men nevertheless went to search the mountains in different directions, and even when they returned to the tent at two o'clock in the afternoon, twelve hours after our arrival, without having seen a sign of Hendrik, none of us felt any uneasiness about the matter. This last excursion gave a bag of eleven hares, whereof ten were immediately given to the dogs, whilst we ourselves shared the one amongst us.

It was Ajako and Inukitsoq who had been in the moun​tains; immediately after their return Bosun was sent over to the point where he and Hendrik parted on the evening of the 21st, but also he returned after a long absence without result. Only then did we begin to feel anxious about Hendrik, and incessantly one or two men went into the mountains, where we tried to attract Hendrik's attention by a thorough search and also by shots and shouts.

Bosun gave the following report:

After a walk of ten or twelve hours into the fjord, during which Wulff and Koch were constantly visible on the opposite shore, Hendrik and he reached a large stone, where they lay down to rest and to cook a hare. Not for a moment had they doubted the direction they were to take, and they knew now that, they had reached the spot where they had to turn downwards to St. George Fjord. Especially was Hendrik, who had been with Koch on the top of Dragon Mountain, well orientated.

They were both very hungry, but as they had only fresh willow-shoots with which to light a fire under a little tin, they did not succeed in making a fire and had to give up the cooking. Whilst sitting there, neither of them anxious to eat the raw hare, Hendrik fell asleep. Bosun was anxious to get in touch with us on the ice as soon as possible, and he roused Hendrik to tell him that he intended to continue now. After that he went down to the river, which was large and broad, but he found with ease a ford where the water reached no higher than to the ankles. On one of the shores of the river he sighted some hares, which he pursued. Here he turned round to look for Hendrik and saw that he stood upright by the side of the stone where he had been sleeping. Hendrik had at that time a bag of four hares, and was yet in the possession of thirty cartridges, and as Bosun assumed that he would continue the hunt downward along other paths, he went towards the fjord in the direction in which he and Hendrik had just seen Wulff and Koch. Through a clough he reached a large stony highland which led straight down to the fjord, and here we met him about an hour after his arrival.

​The situation at present is a desperate one: we do not know at all what to do or where to search, for as the country is yet bare of snow there are no tracks to guide us, and as Hendrik, according to Bosun's tale, seems to have continued his hunting, it is impossible to know which direction he has taken. It is unthinkable that he should have lost his way. especially as he is on an island. We incline to the assumption that during the pursuit of hares he must have fallen with his gun and shot himself. The hares here have their haunts between clefts and stones, and to find a man who has had an accident in such a place would be purely a matter of chance.

In this connection I am reminded of an episode from the colony Christianshaab, in Danish North Greenland. A boy was accidentally shot about 3 or 4 kilometres from the colony itself. The whole camp, numbering about eighty people, went searching for him, but without result. Three years later he was found quite accidentally, as a couple of ptarmigan hunters ran across him; and here he lay, literally on the high road of the ptarmigan and hare hunters, but in a stony track where only sheer chance had led people to him.

For the time being we continue our search. In the meantime the fjord-ice which we must pass along on our crossing to Warming Land approaches its absolute melting. Around us the water grows deeper and deeper, in certain places forming holes which go right through the ice. For every day the difficulties connected with the traversing of such terrain. increase. Furthermore, the immediate neighbourhood has been hunted empty of hares, so it is increasingly difficult to keep the dogs in fair condition.

A large, showery cloud-bank draws up from south-east and increases the dismal feeling which rests over the tent and makes us all silent. At every sound from the mountain, when a stone loosens and rolls down or a bird breaks the silence with its scream, we start up and run out of the tent to see if, maybe, it is the missing one returning. If in addition a storm is to set in it will probably be impossible to cross the fjord; and we have ​had good weather for so long a period that an immediate change is to be expected.

To-day all the country inland has been searched in the direction of the great river, also the coast as far as we could get along Hartz Sound.

July 24th.—As a final attempt we decide to spread ourselves simultaneously across the stretches of the island where there might be a possibility that Hendrik has met with an accident. We walk incessantly for twelve hours, spread out at a distance of some 3 to 4 kilometres from each other. All the night in the great oppressive silence the landscape resounds with our shouts, but never do we hear the reply or the shout for help which we so anxiously await. Eerily sounds Hendrik's name across the island which is now to be his grave. When at last we have to give up further attempts we return to our tent, tired and without a word, creeping each to our place.

We then hold counsel and decide unanimously that nothing more can be done for Hendrik, and that we are forced to continue the journey. The cloud-banks which have threatened us from the south-east horizon, now fall on us with rain and make the position in our camp yet more untenable.

It was with heavy hearts that we broke camp. But before our departure we built three beacons on conspicuous spots, one on a mountain-top which was visible from the whole of the stony plain behind the mountains; there we left a letter with information as to the route we had taken, and where he could reckon on meeting with us during the next eight days. Another beacon with similar information and a map was deposited down by Hartz Sound; finally we built a beacon right off our tent-camp, and here we deposited a little provision and clothes, so that, in case he should have lost his way, he would be able to reach us without difficulty at the camp of Warming Land.

Yet once more we searched the surroundings, as somehow none of us felt ready for the start. Subsequently, on our journey across the fjord we searched with our glasses time after time the districts which we had walked through during these ​last few days. When from the utmost headland on Warming Land we turned in towards Daniel Bruun Glacier, the search had lasted for seventy-two hours at one stretch.

Our lives were now at stake; that was the brutal truth. So we set out on an ice which was so rotten that under all other circumstances we should have considered it entirely unfit for travelling, but forward we must go and that as speedily as possible. Three of us had to walk in front of the dogs, which could hardly be forced through the water, often so deep that they had to swim.

Twelve hours after our start a seal was shot in the lane of tidal water along Warming Land. For a few seconds it was as if we were torn out of the oppressive mood which had settled on us, as the hope of a fat meal revived our courage. An icefloe was used for a ferry to the point where the seal had sunk, and before long we discovered it, as the water was fairly clear and not very deep. In great haste our harpoon of joined tentpoles was made ready, but just as we were commencing to fish up the seal, some large floes came floating, arranging themselves as a death-guard above the sunken seal. It was therefore of no avail to sacrifice our night's sleep in a desperate attempt to get it. The rain poured over us, and that small section of the upper part of our bodies which the water had not been able to reach was unmercifully soaked from above.

It is well known that even if in reality we humans have given up every hope, nevertheless we keep as long as possible an opening for the very last little possibility. Thus we have been hoping that Hendrik for some unaccountable reason or other might have crossed Hartz Sound; and if this was the case, we would now meet him on Warming Land. To-day this hope also failed; and now when we must consider Hendrik's death to be a fact we begin to discuss the fate which overtook him. It is possible that whilst asleep wolves fell on him; on our journey to-day we have seen three, one of which came from ​the country we had just left. There is also a possibility that he may carelessly have tried to cross a river at a point where it was deep, with a current strong enough to pull him down. Finally there is the possibility, which I have mentioned before and which perhaps is the most likely, that he has stumbled and shot himself.

During the walk to-day I had such an experience of the wolf as I have never had before. Straying in across land, I heard slinking footsteps behind me, and, as I suddenly wheeled round, I saw, about 50 metres behind, a pair of round flaming eyes which were fixed on me. At the moment when our eyes met the fire of its glance was extinguished, and the animal stood in a relaxed position with cowardly limp limbs, void of all interest in me. I was unarmed, holding only a stick in my hand, and it was almost as if the animal was aware of my perfect harmlessness but dared not show it. It amused me for awhile to probe its mind, with the result that as soon as I advanced, turning my back on it, it doubled its pace and followed me; but in the moment I turned, the fire died out of its eyes and it tried to demonstrate interests entirely unconnected with me. On the other hand, if I walked backwards it never followed me, being content to stop in its expectant but indifferent position. This, then, was the ambush personified, and it was with a shudder that I thought of poor Hendrik's fate.

July 26th.—We had continued our journey last night after a few hours of rest on the spot where we lost the seal, and now we had again divided into two parties, as there was ever the possibility that game might be discovered on land. So Wulff, Koch, and myself were walking here, gazing across the country void of game until our eyes ached, when suddenly our attention was drawn towards the sledges, which were driving some way out on the fjord and had now made a halt. We immediately directed our glasses on them and discovered that the great moment which for many days we had been hoping for had arrived. A seal was visible on the ice a few kilometres from the sledges, and Inukitsoq had already begun to creep towards it. An hour elapsed, during which time we hardly ​dared to breathe, then at last our tense nervousness found relief in loud shouts of joy: Inukitsoq had shot the seal! We had now crawled along for sixteen hours, and naturally we took this rare and welcome opportunity for camping. With great trouble we sailed on small ice-floes across the land of tidal waters and reached the ice, where soon after we were with our comrades.

We then feasted according to all the rules of the art. Our craving for fat was satisfied by the lovely fresh blubber, and after that we boiled rich blood soup, which gave us a feeling of satiety such as we had not felt since Summer Valley. The dogs were given their share of the catch, and we had an addition to our provisions which was of the greatest significance for us.

July 27th.—We are now not far from the point of ascent to Daniel Bruun Glacier-hardly more than 6 kilometres; but in spite of all our efforts the distance covered on the rotten ice is merely some 10 kilometres in a day's journey of twelve to fourteen hours!

Early in the morning we set off again in pouring rain, but the good meal of yesterday has had its effect. Yesterday we had blood soup with blubber, mixed with a cup of oats, which thickened it agreeably; to-day we had boiled meat.

We are all very lean and, although we are sunburnt and look healthy, the work of the last few months has left its mark on us. Under such circumstances good food put into one's body is like putting coals in a stove; so we do not feel the cold in spite of the miserable rain and the soaked clothes, and all through the day we enjoy an inner warmth which reminds us of the times spent care-free round the flesh-pots of home.

In the evening we reach a deep, strong river which has formed a great delta on the ice, thus making it impassable. We are approximately off the point where we must attempt to bear up towards the inland-ice, so we make camp on land hoping to find a ford later on.

July 28th.—Although the temperature has been high and the thermometer from midnight to noon has registered between 0° and 2° (Cent.), we have spent a cold night, as all our clothes and skins were wet.

Never has a night seemed to me so endlessly long; drizzle alternated with snow, and I lay with the barometer literally in my hand, constantly watching for some little change for the better. But in vain! At length I had to settle down to the fact that in this life, and not least when travelling, one must take the evil days with the good; when my restlessness had found an outlet in this way I really did fall asleep.

In the morning we wake up to a blissful day; the rain has stopped and the sky is clearing between the heavy storm-clouds. Dragon Mountain and Mount Wyatt shoot out of the fog, standing with their sharp profiles as enormous sentinels by the mouth of the fjord, where nature is now dressed in its winter garb. In the forenoon the sun breaks through with fine calm weather, and we get busy to exploit its delicious warmth by drying all our gear.

The promises of the day increase as we approach noon, and with the good weather the prospects for the future suddenly alter; out by the open water of the great river delta seven seals crawl up on the ice, giving rich promises of a good return journey, with meat in the pots every mortal day. A mere couple of them, with all their delicious blubber, would entirely alter the situation.

We have still left seventeen good dogs, which in a wonderful way have gone through and resisted all adversities; never have the dogs of any expedition been more hardy and enduring than ours. Not even the last month of swimming and wading in the ice-cold water has done them much harm.

Seal-hunting must be attempted, and Inukitsoq crawls out on the ice. To our great disappointment there is no result. The water on the ice is so deep that the seals hear his splash at ​a distance, however carefully he moves, and with a pang through our hearts we see one seal after the other disappearing through the ice. But also this disappointment we can bear if only the weather will keep so that we can get our clothes dried and push on upward.

In the afternoon a seal is shot in the tidal water lane, but, as usual, it goes to the bottom. We now know through long experience that it is really hopeless to spend ammunition on this hunt, but for all that we cannot help trying, for there is a bare possibility that some time we may succeed; and this hope carries the day every time the round, shiny heads with the big, staring eyes appear above the surface of the water, scanning us at a distance which is within range. But the fresh water prevents the seals from floating.

When we return to our tent hungry and despondent after this last seal-hunt, some degree of calmness settles over us when we openly admit to each other that the hope of any increase of provisions must be considered dead. It is necessary to resign ourselves to our fate. The only living animal whose tracks we occasionally run across is the craven and dastardly Polar wolf, which as a rule visits the ice-foot below the tent whilst we are asleep to see if there may be something to steal. But the wolf also suffers from the terrible poverty of the country. Hunting on land is attempted, but Hendrik's Island appears to be the border for the game; there at any rate were hares. With heavy hearts we take to the last way out, killing one of our dogs; this happens for the first time on our journey. Our spare provisions for the glacier we dare not touch, and we cannot face a hard walking journey entirely without food.

To-day we certainly got something in our stomachs, but as the dog had been tough in life, so also was its flesh tough to masticate. And contrary to our usual custom we take our meal without joy.

Towards evening adversity once more sweeps over our heads. Big storm-clouds come up from the south-west, drifting at a hot pace in across the steep mountains of the fjord; the barometer is falling, and to our sorrow the rain once more ​lashes the canvas of our tent, whilst our clothes go mouldy on us. We heap big stones on the canvas, tighten the guy-ropes thoroughly, and prepare for the worst.

July 29th.—All through the night heavy weather has raged in the fjord. There was a gale on, but fortunately we did not feel this, being sheltered behind the mountain. The rain has poured down as never before, unfortunately right through the canvas, which is no longer water-tight. Towards noon the barometer goes up somewhat and the rain turns to snow. This cooling generally means an improvement. The country around us is quite covered with snow, and its appearance is autumnal.

I give strict orders that we must economize in provisions as long as we remain quiet, so we have no food to-day. But at five o'clock Koch arrives to announce that those in the other tent can bear it no longer. I then distribute small rations of musk-ox tallow and promise them boiled dog's flesh as soon as the weather permits us to make a fire. The snow falls thicker than before, but the barometer is on the upward grade.

Some time during the afternoon I heard the strong calving of a glacier somewhere inland-an uncanny sound. It appears then that a producing glacier must be situated in the vicinity of our point of ascent. From Dragon Mountain we thought we could decide with certainty that Daniel Bruun Glacier was connected with the main glacier due north-east, with a direction towards Ryder Glacier in Sherard Osborne Fjord, where the inland-ice, so far as we could see, merged evenly with the horizon. Harrigan and I were both quite sure that favourable conditions for ascent were to be found here; but of course we would rather reconnoitre beforehand. But the rotten ice does not permit of a closer survey inward, so we must make a bold stroke and attempt to get up on the inland-ice. We have no other choice; our many hunting excursions for hares have ​made a good inroad on the ammunition; there is a difference in what one gets in return for the shot when one shoots a muskox or a hare!

By midnight we again eat some pieces of musk-ox tallow.

July 30th-31st.—Through the last twenty-four hours the meteorologist has reported fog after fog with a constantly falling barometer. By two o'clock in the morning I can stand it no longer, but seize my diary to find an outlet for the despondency which weighs upon us all. The snow falls heavier than before—soon it will be heaped up, bad and heavy going.

Nobody will be surprised to hear that it is difficult to kill time; we cannot sleep continually, and, hungry as wolves, we do not feel in the mood for reading, though our library yet contains the Bible and fragments of Snorre.

We still possess two tents and we have pitched them both so as to shelter our possessions somewhat; Wulff, Koch, and Harrigan occupy the one; Ajako, Bosun, and I the other. The atmosphere of our little camp is not a light one; we have felt strangely subdued since our happy little Hendrik disappeared in such a mysterious way. On a day like this everything seems sad.

Heavy in heart, we observe how every day which goes makes our good dogs thinner and thinner; we ourselves are not much better off, but we understand the purpose, so we shall soon be accomplished in the art of starving.

For the time being we must remain waiting—waiting to get a view of the glacier which we must ascend, waiting for the sun to dry all our clothes; and when we break camp we shall certainly need what strength we have left. All of us have dear ones to whom we are bound for life; in their name and for their sake we will sell our lives as dearly as possible and not give in as long as we can stand on our legs.

Temporarily we must endure and await. Evil times go slowly, go slowly; such is their nature.

​At six o'clock in the morning hunger forces us to break in on the provisions reserved for the glacier; in good spirits we boil oatmeal gruel on the Primus, as it is impossible to make a fire outside. Each man receives two cups of gruel, and the good Avena oats warm our bodies like a fire, and rest like caresses on our empty stomachs.

Oh, how good it is! We are all in a funny, childish mood which reminds us of the birthdays of our childhood; this is the result of a little proper food. We can keep up for another while, for as long as we are weather-bound the point is to put physical energy on the lowest gear.

Noon is as a rule the time when changes for the better occur, and we therefore always approach the middle of the day with a feeling of excitement. It is thus also to-day. At twelve o'clock the weather clears and a couple of seals crawl as usual up on the ice some way from the tent. They catch fleas and roll happily about in the snow, occasionally glancing towards the camp, then again stretching out at full length, drunk with sleep, taking their sun-bath in the cool afternoon with closed eyes. Previously we were happy when they popped up, now we have begun to hate them.

After the last attempt Harrigan declared that he considers it hopeless to hunt seal through the deep water; but Ajako, who does not know the feeling of giving up as long as there is the faintest possibility of success, declares that in spite of all he will attempt to wade out into the water. For this reason we cook seal meat and a cup of coffee and the situation immediately seems lighter. Alas, how we humans are ruled by our stomachs and the little ballast which they claim!

I admit it, dear reader—one does become materialistic when food so extensively claims one's thoughts. But the craving for food is far from being a sovereign ruler. Many thoughts go out to one's nearest relatives, and it is the longing for home and the thought of the dear ones which is the real source of strength.

So one drowns in an ocean of good intentions, and if only ​one succeeds in realizing a small fraction of them, one will become a shining paradigm for wondering humanity. My memories of the country are my strongest tie. I have never felt really homely in the flats in Copenhagen, for I never get more out of them than just the temporary and occasional which their Danish name implies^[2]—temporary life in a colony in a street which in no way concerns me, between strange people without the stamp of personality, without rest, without the inducement to enjoy home life which only country life offers.

A big town is like a bird-mountain made by man; it is well enough for a time, but one soon has enough of the noise, of the screeching auks, the whistling guillemots, the greedy gulls, and from one's inmost heart one longs for the lonely nest of the wild duck by a quiet distant lake, or out amongst the rocks of the ocean where eiderducks ride the crested waves.

Late in the afternoon, Ajako returns from the seal-hunt with no other result than a wetting to the skin. We warm him with a cup of tea and lend him some of our garments until his own shall be dried; but yet the thawing snow falls quickly and unmercifully.

Next morning I wake up about three o'clock, and no longer hear the snow pattering against the canvas. I turn out and find to my great joy that the snow has ceased to fall and the sky is clear, though as yet it hangs low about the mountain. The landscape is wintry white, so dazzling that one can scarcely keep one's eyes open, and even the rotten water-logged ice is hidden under a beautiful spread of snow. I boil coffee and arouse my comrades. Again a couple of seals have crawled up on the ice, and though they be looked upon merely as will-o'-the-wisps on a marsh, they represent nevertheless some little possibility.

Yesterday we had to kill three dogs because of the lack of food for both men and dogs. So in the beautiful morning we make a big fire and boil the flesh.

​By noon yet another seal-hunt is attempted, which, as usual, for three or four hours puts us into a state of violent excitement; once more it is Ajako who risks his skin, but the only result is another drenching.

So we exploit the good weather by freighting the baggage across the big, rapid river by which we have camped; and the first party drives it on the new snow up to the edge of the inland-ice, 6 kilometres from our camp.

August 1st.—The new month started unusually hopelessly. Pouring rain, no dog food if we were not to broach the glacier provision, and only a few lumps of worn-out dog meat for ourselves; but towards noon the weather unexpectedly clears. As usual, a seal crawled up, though at such a distance that it could not be shot from land. Although the ice after the last days of pouring rain had become mortally dangerous to walk on, Ajako again volunteered to make an attempt. By a roundabout track he approached the seal, for the pools of water were now covered with ice which broke under his feet with such a clatter that the seal could hear it far away. It took some time to get within shooting distance, and also an admirable patience. When the seal suddenly raised its head and began looking around, Ajako had to lie down on his stomach in the deep, cold water and remain there absolutely motionless for minutes at a stretch, until the seal once more went to sleep. Most of us were so excited about the result of the hunt that we could not bear to look at the many stirring details; we went into our tent and flung ourselves down, unable to get up a conversation; our thoughts were incessantly with our comrade who was executing a masterpiece. The shot banged and we rushed out of the tent, the seal did not stir, and a moment later Ajako was beside it and had seized it by the hind flappers.

As I am writing this, both men and dogs are happy and full, ​and yet more than half of the seal has been put aside for the journey on the glacier!

The following day we wake up under a flaming sky, with storm-warning clouds drifting before a strong south-wester in the upper air. The temperature is high, swinging between 4° and 85° (Cent.), and two strongly developed parhelions with rings indicate great unrest in the air, so that once more we must postpone our start. Sure enough, in the afternoon the rain pours down again, and, as usual, we have to creep into our tents; but the short periods of sunshine and a temperature in the shade which has been right up to 9° (Cent.) has helped us so that at last the clothes we must use for the journey along the inland-ice have been examined and dried.

As everything is now ready for the journey and we are only waiting for the weather to clear in order to start, we build by the great river a beacon in memory of Hendrik. Deeply moved, we here remember our deceased comrade, and whilst the others stand about the beacon with lowered flags, I give the following memorial address, first in Danish and then in Greenlandic:

"Somewhere in my diary I have written that, when a little handful of men like us live ourselves by degrees into a unity on the harsh and desolate coasts, we form, as it were, a small society of our own. The great living world which we left soon becomes so distant as to exist for us merely in our thoughts and in our longings.

"Our home is the little tent where, tired and hungry, we gather round our experiences after the toil of the day, and our country is that casual strip of coast where for the night we settle down.

"We live life as it must be lived in these surroundings, simply and primitively; we execute our task as conscientiously as each man knows how, and in the solving of the problems which the expedition has set us we learn to know each other more intimately than do people as a rule.

"The best qualities of each man here meet with the weaker ones, but we help each other according to our ability, and, ​with the good comradeship and the joy of labour which from the outset we made it a point of honour to esteem on this expedition, surely we have all experienced that, in spite of all differences between us in mind and in character, for every day that goes, for every good result achieved, and for every difficulty surmounted, we grow in unity, are tied to each other with closer bonds and love each other more dearly.

"What concerns one concerns us all. For here where we have only each other to fall back on, we have a common fate, and common are all the dispensations allotted to us.

"When commonly we feel it so, how obvious then that our unity should manifest itself yet more strongly when the unusual happens—especially when a catastrophe strikes down a comrade.

"Never shall I forget the atmosphere in our tent during the days when we searched for Hendrik, constantly hoping that he might reappear from behind some hill. The uncanniness, the feeling of desperate helplessness, at not being able to do anything, a strain on the nerves which made us all start, listening to every unusual sound which broke the great stillness about us.

"In vain we searched, in vain we stared our eyes tired across mountains and cloughs. Hendrik was destined never to return to share the joys of the home-coming with the rest of us. Never was he to reap the reward for all his faithful helpfulness after toil, and his happy laughter will no more sound for us during the stir of camp-breaking.

"It would be superfluous in this modest memorial address to say anything about Hendrik himself. We all knew him for a brother, and to know him meant to love him.

"We know how out of nothing he created his position, which amongst his people and in his circle was a leading one, and we know with what faithfulness and interest he executed all his duties.

"In Thule his place will be empty and it will be difficult to fill, and never shall I have a helper there who in such a beautiful way will understand how to make the interests of the station ​his own. In Thule he found a field of labour which entirely engrossed him.

"During all his life he had led a nomadic existence—during the Danmark expedition on the east coast, where he had rich opportunities to make himself useful to, and beloved by, all his comrades; and later on in various positions on such far-stretching coasts as from Cape Farewell, and now to Greenland's northern extremity.

"The little orphan boy from Rittenbenk was to die not merely as the Greenlander, but altogether as the man who traversed and learned to know the greatest stretch of his Fatherland's coast.

"Peace had begun to settle over him, and he was just on the point of reaping the fruit of many years of industriousness, to build house and home, and for ever settle down in the camp which he had chosen so far north—then misfortune overtook him and struck him down, here, far from friends and relatives.

"The Polar Eskimo has a proverb which says that no man will settle down and take up new land for good until death overtakes him and ties his body to a stone mound; first then is it possible to attach a man to a country. I therefore propose that we hold to this idea, born by the enormous spirit of liberty of primitive man, and to this island, where Hendrik found his grave, give his name.

"Hendrik was a Christian man; we all know how fond he was of singing his hymns when occasionally his mind was sad; so before we lose sight for ever of the land where he fought the last big fight alone, we will say the Lord's Prayer in his own tongue, as a final farewell from his old comrades."